


Moonlight

by Starlight713



Series: Atom Bomb Baby [8]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Hair Braiding, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, no tongues battling for dominance!, practicing writing smut, some feelings?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 07:15:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9808814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlight713/pseuds/Starlight713
Summary: They didn't _have_ to sleep next to each other.





	

                They didn’t have to sleep next to each other at Outpost Zimonja. There were plenty of beds in the dorm. The rooms weren’t quite rooms so much as alcoves built off the main hallway—two beds and a dresser in each alcove, with walls separating each one from the next, and curtains across the doorways. They could each take a bed all for themselves and stretch out, which was a luxury on the road. But he found himself looking over at the lump that was Lola on the cot across from him. Her silhouette in the dark. She was sleeping on her side—she usually did—with her back to him. His eyes traced the arc of her shoulder as it sank into her waist and then rose back up at the hips. His fingers remembered exactly what the skin there felt like.               

                A couple hours earlier, he’d given her a piggy-back ride for the last stretch of the walk to the settlement. Forty minutes earlier, she’d been sitting on his lap on the patio, drinking in the starlight with a couple of guards from the Outpost. Twenty minutes earlier, she’d been sitting on his lap while he braided back her hair before bed. They’d been together _all day_. They didn’t need to _sleep_ next to each other too. They weren’t in danger here, and he could reach out and touch her if he wanted. So then, why did he feel like she was miles away?

                She shifted and pulled the wool blanket up around her chin.

                He was just used to it, he figured. And it was cold. And he was real skinny, so the cold went right through him, no matter how many blankets he had.

                He grabbed his blanket and sat up. The shock of the wood floor on his bare feet was enough to get him up and moving, and he took the half of a step to reach her, spread his blanket out on top of hers, and then slid under the covers. At first, there wasn’t quite room for the both of them. Lola slept slightly curled up, so her butt was pushing him off the mattress. He shoved against her hips until she moved, but he still couldn’t quite get comfortable. He sat up a bit and slid one arm under her shoulders so he could roll her onto her other side. She was dead asleep, but woke up just enough to cooperate. He laid down flat on his back like usual and tried to orient her so that she wasn’t taking up all the covers or kneeing him in the groin (if it wasn’t one thing, it was definitely the other). Finally, after some squirming, he managed to get her curled up next to him, warm and cozy. Immediately, she wrapped an arm around his chest and burrowed her face into his shoulder. One leg came up and rested across his thighs. He would have been more comfortable if she would sleep like a human and not a grumpy rag-doll, but he’d take it. Besides, once he settled in it wasn’t so bad. She radiated heat everywhere she touched him.

                He pressed his lips against her hair (he didn’t allow his brain to call it a kiss) and she nuzzled his shoulder in return. He decided that he liked watching her sleep. Her face relaxed all the way, and it made her look completely different—younger, more open. Now that she was gaining some weigh back, her cheeks were filling back out and her eyelashes cast shadows over them. Her lips were always slightly parted, bottom lip jutted out just a little. He’d bitten that lip earlier.

                He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but she was like his damn arm—attached to his side, and he couldn’t picture her any other way. Somehow, in the course of all this mess, he had started to revolve around her. She marched to settlements with him on her heels, not a word spoken about it between them. He took watch when she bathed in the river and she kept an eye out while he shaved. She sprinted in quick to clear a path and he hung back and kept raiders off her tail. He reached for her hand, and she squeezed his fingers. Natural.

                Everything looked different in the dark. The walls were close on either side, and she looked hazy in the little streaks of moonlight that trickled through the shack’s roof. She was like a charcoal drawing in one of Joseph’s pre-war art books—the vague outline of a face, the lines of her lips blurred into the shadows on her chin, the sharp crescents of her closed eyes blended down over her cheeks. She looked like she would smudge if he tried to touch her.

                He’d know her face better than he knew his own.

                He didn’t want to wake her up. At least, he hadn’t meant to. He ran his thumb over her cheek to prove to himself she was there. When he skimmed her bottom lip, she sighed and her eyes flickered open, heavy-lidded. She gave a soft “hmm?” He kissed her forehead. When he pulled back, her lip twitched up at the corner and she gripped a fistful of his shirt to pull herself up so she could kiss him back.

                Her lips were cool against the line of his jaw.

                He could feel her breath trace across the underside of his chin.

                Her nose skimmed his skin when she slipped lower, those lips just barely touching him.

                He held his breath.

                Her lips pressed down on his pulse so sweetly before her teeth nipped, sending an electric shock down his spine.

                “Lo—” He didn’t even finish saying her name and she was on top of him. In the dark, he couldn’t see the hands that traced lines over his chest, sliding under his shirt as she worked the buttons open. Disembodied hands drifting while his eyes were jammed shut. Her tongue tasted like sleep and beer. Her teeth skimmed his bottom lip before biting down just enough to hitch his breathing. He groaned and felt her responding grin against his mouth.

                His skin was on fucking fire. If she stopped touching him, he would die.

                She pulled back and he had to unfasten his fingers from around her arms one-by-one, consciously, to let her go. She trailed kisses down his chin and neck and shoulders and chest and stomach and he had to bite down on his fist to shut himself the hell up when her tongue flicked out just above the line of denim over his hips. Pause. She was breathing through her nose with her lips against his skin. Waiting for permission.

                His free hand shook when he reached down and thumbed the button on his pants. Took him three tries to unbutton his own goddamned jeans. Her nails scratched against his hip bones when she gently tugged until his waistband sat at about mid-thigh. When he looked down at her, she was a shadowy silhouette with dark lips. Her eyes caught the light and shined. He could feel every breath and it made him want to crawl out of his fucking skin to get to her.

                Please _. Please._

The groan that rumbled up out of his chest when her lips finally met skin surprised him. At first, it was little tiny brushes of her against him—up and down, gently, until he jerked under her and she slid her mouth down as far as it would go around him. Pinpoints of light skittered across his closed eyelids. He was lightheaded—like the wind had been knocked clean out of him. And the thing she did with her _tongue._

                Kind and cruel all wrapped up in one, she’d pull back to let him catch his breath and then glide back down around him until he saw stars. Somehow, his free hand got tangled up in her hair. He didn’t remember grabbing for her hair, but he could feel every bob of her head as her skull moved under his fingers.

                There was no one in the whole world but Lola and her quick tongue and the fingernails that dragged over his skin raising goosebumps.

                And then she pulled back and sat up, legs on either side of his, eyes bright. She watched him watch her drag a thumb over her lip, wiping away a gleam of spit.

                Holy shit.

                He grabbed her face in both hands and pulled her down until she kissed him back—hard and fast enough to draw blood. A chill swept up his spine now that he was sitting up off the mattress and exposed to the air. She rocked against him and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

                She pulled away again but he was fucking mesmerized when her thumbs hooked into the elastic band of her underwear and tugged. She had to shift to slide them off one leg first, and she only got them down the other leg far enough to be out of the way when his hands shot out by sheer reflex, seized her hips, and pulled her hard against him. She made a sound he wanted tattooed on the inside of his ear.  He could feel every muscle in her waist as she rolled her hips and slid down onto him.

                Bright lights exploded across his vision. She leaned back, steadying herself with her hands on his shins. The movements started at where they met and then roiled through her like a wave. Her head lolled back, hair spilling out of her braid and down her back.

                It hit him hard and fast and he jerked her back up and wrapped his arms tight around her, using her mouth to muffle the sounds that ripped up out of his throat. She ground against him a few more times as lightening zinged over his skin before collapsing with her head on his shoulder, breathing hard.

                It was like a goddamned movie. His hands were braced against her spine—one high, one low—holding her too close. Her arms were wound around his neck.

                He almost swore out loud, but laughed instead. No idea where the laugh came from.

                She kissed his cheek like she was trying to press her lips into his teeth through his skin.

                After a long moment, she finally leaned back and they both just looked at each other. Even in the dark, he could see the blood in her cheeks. She stared and then brushed her nose up against his. So goddamned tender he could cry.

                He didn’t want to think about what it meant right now. What any of it meant. They’d had sex before. This shouldn’t feel so different. But in the dark, everything was new.

                It was another long while before she rolled off his lap and onto the floor, her feet hitting the wood with a dull _thump._ He leaned back and watched her dig through their things for something to clean up with. When she crawled back into bed, he turned her so that he could braid her hair back again. She didn’t like it in her face at night now that it was getting long again. Her hair was soft and the repetition was soothing—over, around, over, around—and when he tied it off with one of her elastics, they sank back down together and slept like the dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading! <3 I am practicing writing smut (it is soooo hard--props to those who write it!) so any feedback is much appreciated! 
> 
> If you want, you can also find this here on my writing Tumblr! http://starlightwrites.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thank you again! <3


End file.
